Psalms 104: 4
Regard the realm of random winds
Parade to pomp's duration,
Themselves unseen, a world begins
Its bowing adoration.
They speak in roundest vowel sounds
As shrieks or whispers, tonal bounds
For eerie incantations.
In language men misunderstand
A message has been spoken,
Wild havoc strewn across the land
Becomes its clearer token,
As when their frightful fury spawns
Destruction hard to compare...
Yet, later over littered lawns
The sunshine smiles in sweet air.
While in its warmth, who basks anew,
The gentle zephyrs remind,
That Nature's power may undo
The best that man can divine.
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